Emotionless
by Englandlover2001
Summary: In a distopian world of zero emotions what happens when on does show emotions?
1. Chapter 1

Hex: so this is my friends story *clap* we share an acount so this will help you see who we are! Fantasia: and a special thanks to hex for helping me share my story

Hex: idiot don't thank me! Fantasia: :)- I thank when I want Hex: let's just show the story!would you like to say the disclaimer?

Fantasia: agreed. I don't own hetalia, and any other story ideas would be appreciated

Hex:enjoy!

Chapter 1

'Bang... Bang... Bang...'

The dull thuds on the solid, two inch thick glass emanated throughout the dim, gray walls of the observation room. The circular gas chamber held it's captive with an iron fist, and as the oxygen within slowly was replaced with CO2, the bangs became less pronounced, as the captive becoming dizzier and weaker with every breath he took in. This was a sealed space, no oxygen would come in, no CO2 would go out. The prisoner would have to breathe in his own waste, until he was gasping for air, and then would breathe in a poisonous gas that put the prisoner to sleep... Permanently.

Two men stood outside the chamber, one confident and his posture tall and straight, the other shaking slightly, his shoulders hunched, two silent tears rolling down his cheek. The confident put his hand on the others shoulder as they watched.

"Arthur...This is for the best."

The man Arthur nodded slightly, his blond bangs falling over his face.

"I know this must be hard... But it's procedure. He's dangerous, doesn't follow the rules, and has abilities that could amount to the destruction of humanity. The lab made his powers and immunity stronger and more terrible. He HAS to die."

"Y-yes... I-" Arthur swallowed hard. "I understand."

The prisoner in the tank was no longer thudding on the glass. He had fallen to his knees, head down, knowing what was to come of him. NO one survived this. No one. He pressed a hand to the glass and looked up a final time, before-

Arthur stepped back as he met the captive's gaze, and he even felt the man behind him tighten his grip ever so slightly, and this man did not scare easily.

The look in the captors eyes were beyond angry, they burned with fiery hatred, though his stare was as cold as ice. Though sadness was mixed in with the hate, anger, and dismay that he was different... A demon among angels.

The man behind him reached out a hand to press the button, shaking ever so, slightly to press the button that would rid the prisoner of his name and life forever.

Arthur couldn't take it any longer,

"STOP! PLEASE! Let me talk to him, make him see sense!"

The man behind him paused, thinking.

"I-if we can convince him of the side being the right one, may-maybe we could use him a-as a weapon! But please... One. Last. Chance."

The man stopped, and finally said, cold as the iciest river, soft as the falling snow.

"He went through the trials... Why did you not speak up then?"

"Sir, I-I could never want to harm the city, bit I also don't want someone to die when I could have prevented it."

The captive in his glass prison was now gasping for air, clawing at the glass.

"Agreed. Take him. He is yours. Though we are keeping an eye on you... We will be watching..."

He pressed an entirely different button on a remote. The glass tank slid upwards and the prisoner inside gasped like a fish out of water upon breathing real air again.

"And one last thing," said the man as he turned to leave. "He'll understand you, but you'll have trouble understanding him. His English isn't quite up to date..." With a bark of laughter, he left the room, sealing the door behind him.

Arthur walked up to the...the thing he had just saved, inspecting the closest details, and noticed the once familiar friend he'd once known had changed a lot. The familiar blond hair was now as jet black as a clear midnight sky without any stars. His mouth showed pale lips with the slight hint of fangs. His skin was once fine, perfect, and tan enough to be able to tell that he spent some time in the sun, but now was as milky white as the moon and shone dully in the dim light.

Then he spoke, still gasping for breath, but not in English. His old friend was beyond that now.

Grunts and clicks were issued, as he flopped around like a fish out of water. However, there was one word he could understand.

"Ar...thur"

Arthur choked on tears again, and bent down, touching the captive tentatively, and muttered only so that the prisoner could hear him.

"I'm sorry Alfred... I just couldn't bear to loose you to death

Hex: did you like it?

Fantasia: hope you did!

Hex: any comment is welcomed we don't mind.

Fantasia: and any other story ideas are appreciated, so I can continue writing more hetalia fanfiction!

Hex: next update will be I don't know Saturday Sunday?


	2. Chapter 2

Hex: sorry if the next chapter is late!

fantasia: Yep sorry. Hex your turn.

Hex: oh rigth

~disclamer~Hetalia does not belong to us~

Chapter 2

~one year ago~

"Students shall be exiting to the far left, and have a good summer vacation."

Monotone cheers went up as the students poured out of school, and into the bustling city. The white buildings with their blue windows jutted to the grey, cloud-filled sky, piercing it like a sharp sword enters a piece of cloth. The streets were white as snow and smooth as plastic, and the sidewalks were the same but placed a couple inches above the road. Cars zoomed at impossible speeds, leaving a blue crackle of electricity in their wake. Crossroad rules had to be taken seriously, otherwise car accidents would be inevitable.

The sidewalks weren't crowded like they had once been, oh, maybe a two centuries ago, since teleportation had been invented and become surprisingly affordable, but Arthur Kirkland decided to walk instead.

Alfred F. Jones, another schoolboy and crush of Arthur caught up to him, laughing as he ran ahead of him, pulling poor Arthur along.

"Alfred! Stop! I can't run as fast as you!"

The teen laughed at Arthur's pitiful speed, but for good reason: at Arthur's quickest, he was about as fast as a person running in slow motion.

"All right, but only since I'm the hero and have to protect you!" Again, Alfred laughed, a combination of joy and childish excitement, loud and clear, sending the few people on the sidewalk scurrying at the sudden noise.

Alfred easily fell into step next to Arthur, who was still trying to regain his breathe after being dragged five blocks, and jubilantly put his arm around Arthur, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze of comfort.

'He looks like he was wearing springs...' Thought Arthur, blushing furiously and looking at their feet, footsteps just seconds behind each other. 'So incredibly happy... He's sixteen and yet he still acts like he's ten, so carefree and happy... Happy...' Happy wasn't really allowed in the city, only a sheen of obedience and showing hardly any emotion.

Citizens were required to take medications every day to take on these effects, but Alfred either forgot his everyday, or it, somehow, incredibly, didn't work on him. His parents definitely noticed, and kept giving him higher medications, until one day he fell into a coma for a month from taking too high of a dosage, and Arthur had cried every night during that time, sometimes cutting himself on purpose with a blade in the process. Sadness wasn't allowed either, and Arthur had had to also up his doses. Pitty the meds wore off by nightfall, when Arthur had began to cry again.

Arthur shook himself, and said quietly. "Why are you so...?" He searched for the right word.

"Jubilant? Joyous? Merry? Just plain happy?" Said Alfred, finishing his sentence, and leaped happily into the air, landing a foot in front of Arthur, stopping the youth in his tracks, then put his hand on his hips. "Is that a bad thing?"

Some people nearby stared at the excited Alfred, and their eyes went wide with one of the few emotions that WAS allowed: fear, and absolute terror

Arthur was about to protest, and tell him off, saying that expressing the emotion of happiness WAS a bad thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The sparkle in Alfred's eyes were so contagious, Arthur couldn't help but smile slightly, even under the medication. "No... I guess not. But be careful."

Alfred skipped down the sidewalk, yelling back.

"Ah come on Arthur! Loosen up a little bit! Have fun!"

He started walking backwards, whistling a random and unknown toon, when he bumped into someone behind him. Arthur's eyes widened. A BIG someone.

Alfred turned, apologizing at the same time.

However, his words died in his throat as he saw who he was apologizing to, his skin going pale.

A man in white suit and glasses, and a shaven head. This is an officer of the CIE (City Inspector of Emotion), and had to shot to kill or take a citizen to the lab, if showing any sign of emotion. He pulled something out of his pocket, a scanner. A beam of white light bathed Alfred for a second before turning red and beeping.

"You've had your medications." His voice was deep and gravely, showing no sign for mercy.

Alfred weakly nodded. "Y-yes sir."

In all the time Arthur knew Alfred, he had never, EVER heard Alfred stutter, almost like his identical twin brother Matthew.

The man in white nodded. Then he pulled something else out of his pocket...Alfred backed up, to turn and run-

There was a sharp 'crack'... And Arthur wanted to scream, to cry out in sorrow and shock, but the medication made him suddenly feel numb, and as though he had lost the ability of speech and movement...Alfred had gone limp, and fell to the ground... He lay there, unmoving, blood oozing from cuts...

And the hole near his heart.

Hex/Fantasia: we hope you enjoyed see you next week


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

The man in white looked up at Arthur, who went numb from fear, sorrow, and shock at what had just happened. Then, casually, like this happened every day, the CIE member slung Alfred's body of his shoulder, and walked away.

Arthur had walked home, as emotionless as possible, then as soon as he got home, he ran to his room, collapsed on his bed, and cried.

No one had noticed his grief, for he took extra doses of the medication to prevent anyone from finding out about his mourning for the loss of his loved one. Then, everyday, instead of going to the e-library, or Alfred's house, which was how he usually spent his summer vacation, he would stay, locked up in his room on his bed, staring emotionlessly at the ceiling.

When Arthur finally decided to come out of his room, he was a complete wreck. His hair, which he usually combs to perfection to match the chosen city hairstyle, had become untidy, and a slightly darker color of blond. His eyes were slightly blood-shot and he had bags under them, for he had spent many a night without sleep, and there was the fact that he cried constantly when he wasn't on the medication. His cloths were dusty, and had become a bit more loose then perhaps three weeks ago; his eating habits had taken a beating, and Arthur had hardly touched a morsel of food unless he was starving, because he felt that Alfred wouldn't want him to starve.

He went downstairs, and that's when his parents stopped him.

"Arthur, how long have you been in your room?" His mother asked.

Arthur faltered. "Um... T-three days?" He hadn't taken his medication yet, so lying wasn't a problem.

His dad sighed. "Well, we've been meaning to talk to you, because need to do something this summer other then go to the library and hang out with your friend Alfred."

Arthur throat went dry. Alfred was dead, didn't his father know that?!

"L-like what?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"A job," his dad stated, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "You can get a job at the lab, they're looking for assistants. They're apparently hard to get now a days..."

His father trailed off, a glazed look coming across his face. Then, without warning, he started talking again, scaring the bejesus out of Arthur.

"You start tomorrow."

Then his mother and father stood up, his father grabbing a coat and hat, shoving both on, then leaving for work, while his mother busied herself around the house, making breakfast: buttered toast with an option of jam, poached eggs, and green-tea.

Arthur ate slowly, wondering sadly, if Alfred would be eating something the lines of donuts or pancakes that morning, deciding what he would do that day. Arthur sighed sadly, a solitary tear running down his cheek, then, he took out his medication bottle, and pulled out two deep blue pills, but then thought better of it and shook out another one, making it three. He popped them in his mouth and washed it down with his green tea, and sighed mentally and the soothing sensation of nothingness sent his emotions spiraling down a deep, dark, hole.

He spent the rest of the day wondering about the city, running errands for his mother, and admiring the new building being put up. He stopped at one of the work cites, noting that the frame had already been put assembled, advertising that the building would soon be a skyscraper. Of what color, though, Arthur did not know. He hoped it would be a deep blue, pearl white, and/or a crimson red, though Arthur had a feeling that it would be a dull, grey-white. All buildings were like that. Alfred loved color and architecture, and Arthur could almost, almost, imagine Alfred beside him, holding his hand and cracking up at one of his own lame jokes that nobody but Arthur got, or complaint about how little the architects use color.

Arthur put his head down, and continued on down the sidewalk, his thoughts drifting, all the way home.

The next day arrived, and Arthur was waken at the most ungodly hour of 4:30am. His father was shaking him awake, and whispering, monotone as ever, like the voice came from more like a robot, not a human.

"Wake... Up... Arthur."

Arthur blinked, looking up, the voice chilling him to the bone. His father stopped shaking him, and simply held up the usual everyday clothing, which was more like a uniform, a white long-sleeve with a brownish-green vest, and brown pants. Everyone wore the outfit, and as ugly as Arthur thought they were, he had to wear them. At least everybody (even the girls) wore the same thing...

Slouching out of bed, Arthur stretched silently before shrugging on his attire, and had just finished buttoning his vest when his father, suddenly gasping for air, grabbed Arthur's shoulders, nearly making the poor boy topple to the floor.

"Arthur..." He rasped, breath coming in short gasps. "Listen to me- they are here to get you-" more gasping for air. "Get away, out... Of the house... Anywhere but where the government can find you- don't take the medication!"

Then his father gulped in a final breath, then stood up, straightened his vest, and smiled down at his son, who was shaking like a leaf.

"Well now Arthur, they are waiting for you outside, shall we?"


End file.
